


Cry Me A River

by alexislord



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Love at First Sight, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexislord/pseuds/alexislord
Summary: Bill stumbles into a bar and falls in love instantly with Richie, a stranger who is singing a haunting and beautiful song.





	1. Love At First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I have a lot of characters and ships listed that aren't in this chapter, but they are coming, I promise. Hope you enjoyed it and lemme know if you did!

In an unfamiliar bar, Bill ordered a beer and took his place at a two-seater table. The bar was clearly set up with small-scale performances in mind, the copious seating options all arranged towards a cozy stage. It was dark at the moment, and Bill pulled the flier out of his pocket. He flattened it out to read it, but struggled in the dim room.

A light came on in front of him, an upright bass humming out notes, as Bill finally located the date on the paper. It was open mic night, with free time at the end of the night for anyone who felt the urge to perform. Bill briefly scanned over the other nights, considering if he might come back another time with friends, but his head snapped up automatically as a new sound hit his ears.

_Now, you say you’re lonely_

_You cried the whole night through_

_Well, you can cry me a river_

_Cry me a river_

_I cried a river over you_

Never before had Bill heard a more beautiful sound than the voice of the man on stage, as he crooned a jazz number. The thin, dark-haired man sat on a stool, head down causing his curly hair block most of his face.

_You drove me, nearly drove me, out of my head,_

_While you never shed a tear_

_Remember, I remember all that you said_

_Told me love was too plebeian_

_Told me you were through with me_

Despite his lax posture, the mysterious singer’s sirenic voice dripped with emotion as he sang a song Bill had never heard before. His voice would fluctuate between a melancholic, husky whisper, all the way to a soulful bellow. The song took Bill on an emotional journey with him, from heartbreak to anger through depression and ending with a sense of confusion and emptiness.

_And now, you say you love me_

_Well, just to prove you do,_

_Come on and cry me a river_

_Cry me a river_

_I cried a river over you_

His voice faded out, echoing the last line over and over, until the sound disappeared seamlessly. People rose to their feet, clapped, hooted and hollered, but Bill stayed where he was, his vision clouded. He wasn’t sure when he started crying, but he looked down, and noticed discolored spots covering the flier, making it practically indecipherable.

Wiping his eyes as the cheers died down, Bill whipped his head up, looking for the singer, who had already left the stage. Bill scanned the crowd, but the dim lighting combined with his blurred vision made him almost impossible to track down. Making a b-line for the bar, Bill waved the bartender over frantically. The guy rolled his eyes and walked over to him, impatience clear in his glance.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked, a bored expression on his face.

“No, I don’t, not right now. Do you know who that was?” Bill asked frantically, pointing to the stage.

“Richie Tozier. He’s a regular here for open mic.”

“Really?” Bill asked incredulously. “Is he always that good?”

The guy shook his head, as he dried a glass with a towel. “Uh, no. I’ve never heard him sing, actually. Usually does stand up,” the bartender replied, looking at the glass and not at Bill. Finally, he set it down and looked Bill in the eye. “Somebody must have hurt him real good to get him to sing that well.”

Nodding, Bill scanned the crowd again, not seeing anyone familiar or that looked remotely like the singer...Richie, the bartender had said. “Do you know where he might be? Does he usually hang around after or does he just leave?”

The bartender sighed, and Bill looked back up at him. “Look, it’s not my business what you are trying to get out of this guy. But, to keep my conscience clean, promise me you’re not a rapist or a stalker or a murderer before I tell you anything.”

The tone he used was a joke, but the man behind the bar clearly felt some amount of protectiveness over Richie, even if they didn’t seem to be friends exactly. Bill held up his hands in surrender before he replied.

“I’m not, I promise. Something about him was just….” Bill trailed off, trying to think. Enchanting? Alluring? All-encompassing? For some reason, despite touting himself as a writer, Bill had the hardest time pinpointing a word that really captured how he was feeling.

As Bill looked back at the bartender, he only caught the end of an eye roll, before the man replied, “Yeah, whatever. Normally, he smokes right after he performs in the alley out that door,” he said, gesturing towards it.

Hope filled Bill’s heart as stood up to head that way, feeling that destiny was on the other side of it for him. He turned back, though, to say, “Thank you, ummm….”

“It’s Stanley. And you’re welcome….”

“Bill,” he replied, adding, “Denbrough,” when Stanley looked like he wanted more.

“Bill Denbrough. You’re welcome. Don’t kill him in the alley, or I’ll know it was you. I know your name and what you look like. And I’ll keep this,” he explained, as Stanley reached over to pull the flier Bill had been fidgeting with out of his hand, “For fingerprints and DNA.”

Stanley walked over to a cork board behind the bar, pinning it to the center and ripping off the corners he had touched. Bill wasn’t sure if it was for show or not, but he simply smiled and said, “Thanks Stanley,” as he walked swiftly to the alley door, desperate to know what lay in wait for him on the other side.

Flinging the door open more than he meant to, it slammed against the wall as Bill made his way outside, his breath clouding in front of him instantly, the cold air biting. His head moved rapidly side to side, scanning deftly the scene in front of him, but nothing caught his eye immediately. As he walked, still scanning, Bill heard no speaking, no movement.

A ways down the alley, there was a dumpster, and Bill thought it might be obstructing his view of someone on the other side. He made his way in that direction and heard a hollow thump against the metal dumpster, his heart beating faster with the possibilities. Bill even thought he could smell tobacco smoke in the air as he neared the source of the sound.

Alas, fate would have to wait for another night. The alley was empty in front of him, not a handsome man in sight, the noise probably from the rat that ran by as Bill decided hanging out in alleys wasn’t really for him. He headed back towards the door to the bar, trying to stave off the dopamine crash as logic threatened to overtake the feeling of kismet he had just moments ago. Would fate really let him miss out on that opportunity?

As he opened the door, walking back through the threshold, Bill pondered if Richie had even been real. Every moment since Bill had seen him felt like an out of body experience. Richie had vanished so quickly, no trace lingering except for the scent of cigarette smoke. Bill felt, if he tried hard enough, he could convince himself the man had simply been a dream, a fabrication, an illusion.

But Stanley knew him, and saw Bill come back in looking thoughtful and distraught, and commented more than asked, “Not there, huh. Well, he seemed emotional tonight, so hopefully next time, he’ll stick around. Sorry kid.”

“Kid?” Bill said, climbing up onto the bar stool. “We’re like the same age.”

“Physically,” Stanley said wryly, a wistful smile on his face the first hint of happiness from the stoic man that Bill had observed. “But mentally, I’m an old, grumpy man who just wants kids to stay out of my bar.”

Without prompting, Stan filled a glass partway with a brown liquor and passed it to Bill. When Bill went to reject it, the curly haired man simply stated, “Bourbon, on the house.” Bill still looked like he might resist, so Stanley leaned in closer, before explaining, “You’re doing me a favor, man. The bottle’s nearly empty and I’d rather finish it off.”

Sighing, Bill nodded a thank you to him, and sipped at the drink, surprised at how smooth it went down. He normally stuck to beer, but the taste and alcohol content seemed to be helping stave off the wave of sadness threatening to overtake him, so Bill took another long drink, as Stanley whistled while he wiped down the bar.

Throwing his head back, Bill finished his drink, slamming his glass on the counter, as Stanley slammed a flier down next to him. “A new one, since the one in evidence is smudged and basically illegible.”

“Thanks,” Bill said simply, noticing that another open mic was coming up in a few weeks. He folded it carefully and committed the time and date to memory, just in case he lost it, as he so often did with whatever he put in his pockets.

He headed for the exit, and opened the door, hearing a voice call, “See you on the 20th,” as it closed behind him.


	2. Infatuation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill can't stop thinking about the mysterious stranger he saw singing and Eddie hates him already

Reaching into his pocket, Bill ran his finger along the edge of the yellow flier that had taken up residence in his pocket. Doing so brought Bill back to sitting at that table, just a week earlier; he could almost hear Richie’s voice in his memory, if he tuned the rest of the world out. 

A fist slamming down on the table pulled him out of his daze abruptly, though. Bill was out at brunch with his best friend, Eddie, who was giving him a death glare. “Damn it, Bill, again?! That’s the fifth time this week and the second time during this same brunch! I get that this guy was crazy hot and his voice was like a fucking angel, but Jesus!”

Hearing murmuring over his shoulder, Bill took a quick look around the room to find more than one table looking at Bill and Eddie disapprovingly. Reaching across the table, Bill placed his hand over Eddie’s, squeezing it gently to get his attention. “Eddie, I’m sorry. I’ll listen, okay? But you gotta calm down. The old ladies are giving us the stink eye and I don’t want to have to find another brunch place. This is the only one within miles that has ebelskivers.”

Visibly relaxing with the apology and contact, Eddie nodded, a small smile on his face. Bill smiled back, squeezing his hand again, before finally letting go and picking his fork back up. Grabbing his water glass, Eddie took a sip before continuing. “Well, I don’t know where I lost you, but I was basically just whining about pre-Med and then commenting on a cute guy I keep seeing at work.”

“Cute guy?” Bill asked, mouth still partially full of food. “Doctor, nurse or patient?”

“A visitor, actually. He comes in every Tuesday evening at 7pm, like clockwork, to bring in new sunflowers for his grandmother,” Eddie explained, a sweet smile on his face, as he watched Bill for a reaction. “I haven’t talked to him yet, but he waves to me and always leaves thank you notes for the nurses that take care of his grandma, and since my name is up on the board in her room, he added my name and some hearts.”

Still shoveling food into his mouth, Bill nodded to let Eddie know he’d heard him, not looking up from his plate. “Sounds cool and like he likes you. You should ask him out.”

“Really?” Eddie asked, his voice faltering. “You think I should just ask him out?”

“Yeah, why not?” Bill asked, forking scraping against his plate as he finished off his scrambled eggs. “You’re single and he seems into it, and you like him. Why wouldn’t you?”

Eddie let out a breath, his left hand reaching over to his right, caressing where Bill’s hand had been just moment ago, remembering the warmth and softness of his touch. “I don’t know. You’re right, I should.”

Finally finished with his meal, Bill looked at Eddie smiling and nodding. “Just make sure he knows that, if he hurts you, I’ll beat the living hell out of him.”

Shaking his head, Eddie smiled, but it didn’t make it to his eyes. “What a gentleman. My knight in shining plaid.”

Bill glared playfully and Eddie laughed, trying to keep his expectations reasonable, as Bill grabbed the check to pay immediately, and not let his heart beat out of control. 

“I got this. It’s the least I can do for daydreaming around you so much lately and being an asshole,” Bill explained. 

Nodding, Eddie agreed, adding, “You’re not wrong. So, when are we going to this magical bar where we’ll all meet the loves of our lives?”

“Hey, I admitted I was being an asshole, lay off. And it’s still a week away,” Bill replied sadly, getting up. He put his hands in the pockets of his coat as they stepped out into the winter air, fingers immediately finding the flier again. 

Stopping for a moment to pull on his gloves, hat and scarf, Eddie suggested, “I bet it’s been great for your novel, right? All that emotional energy, anticipation and crap.”

Bill shook his head as they walked, kicking a rock. “Not really. It’s hard to channel all the positive, hopeful emotions into a horror thriller.”

“Maybe you don’t write that story right now, then. Maybe try writing a romance for awhile? It might help you qualify the feelings. You know, make them less damn distracting if you get them all out on the page?” Eddie recommended, words coming out uncertain.

Stopping suddenly, Bill waited for Eddie to stop too, and turn around. When he did, Eddie was greeted with a huge grin on Bill’s face, as he rapidly closed the distance between them. Bill wrapped his arms around Eddie, spinning him around in a circle, before setting him back down, both men a little out of breath. 

With his hands still on Eddie’s shoulders, Bill exclaimed, “Eddie, you’re a fucking genius! I’ll do exactly that!” 

Smiling, Eddie replied, “Well, yeah. Med school isn’t exactly a walk in the park, you know? You’ve gotta be at least a genius to do that shit.”

“I believe you,” Bill agreed, a smile on his face and a clear spring in his step. 

Eddie try to ignore the pride he felt for causing the man he loved to be so excited and happy. He tried to push away the warmth in his chest at the thought of being picked up so romantically. He tried to forget the crush he’d had on Bill for what felt like his entire life. 

Eddie tried to destroy the thought creeping into his mind, that this Richie was ruining his perfect fated friends to lovers romance. But he only succeeded slightly at any of those things, as Eddie watched Bill stride forward, a song in his heart, and an entirely different one in Eddie’s. 

\---------

“And then he said I should just ask the guy out? Can you believe that?” Eddie asked, frustration clear in his voice, as he paced back and forth in Beverly’s apartment.

Feeling around in the bag, Beverly peeked in to find another chip, before responding, “Eddie, you should. I agree with him. And it’s not that surprising.”

Whipping around to look her in the eyes, Eddie raised his eyebrows as high as they would go, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, wasn’t it you I was talking to a couple week ago who told me I should just confess my undying love or just grab his face and kiss him, or some other stupid bare my feelings for the world shit? And now, you’re telling me to ask some other dude out? What, for like some kind of jealousy thing or something?”

Shaking her head, Beverly patted the spot on the couch next to her, and Eddie obliged, stopping his relentless pacing and sitting with her. She reached over to grab his chin, turning his head towards her before speaking. 

“Eddie, I was all for you proclaiming feelings for him a couple weeks ago, but that was before he got obsessed with this Richie guy,” Beverly replied, chuckling as Eddie scowled at his name. “Now, I think it’s time to face facts, you know? I don’t want him to break your heart, if Bill would even listen long enough to hear you.”

Laughing dryly, Eddie nodded, but his eyes looked far off as soon as Beverly let go of his face. “And this isn’t bothering you at all, Bev? I mean, he’s been talking your ear off about this douche, too, and Bill’s your ex.”

Beverly rolled her eyes before pushing herself off the couch. “Yeah, but we broke up years ago. And we haven’t had anything more than a drunken hook-up since, so I don’t really care.”

“Drunken hook-up?” Eddie asked, incredulous and on the verge of irritated. “When was the last time you guys…?”

“Not since you told me you loved him, while you were in a drunken stupor, weeping in my lap, Eddie,” Beverly explained, grabbing Eddie’s hand. “ I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Smiling, Eddie squeezed back, before dropping his hand by his side. “Thanks, Bev. Bill’s just being ridiculous.”

“That’s what happens when you get infatuated. You get obsessive, naive, grandiose, romanticizing everything….” Beverly said, trailing off. 

“Ugh, I know. And Bill’s a writer, so it’s even worse,” Eddie said, sighing as he did. 

“Right, Bill. Well, we’ll just have to see what happens at the open mic. Then we can reassess for your next move.”

“You’re right,” Eddie replied, nodding. “A week. I can wait a week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little anticlimactic, but I promise, some stuff is going down in the next one!


	3. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's open mic night once again, and Bill and the gang go together, all anxious to meet his mystery man, Richie.

It was open mic night, and Bill was definitely nervous. That wasn’t something he’d outright admit, but the swift, rhythmic bobbing of his leg and constant glances at his watch were enough to give him away. Bill stopped abruptly, as he felt a hand grasp his knee and squeeze gently. Looking up, he smiled at Eddie, keeping his leg steady, but shifting to tapping his middle finger on his other leg without noticing. 

Eddie, Bill, Beverly and Beverly’s co-worker had been at the same two tables for over an hour now. They’d watched people sing, perform soliloquies, dance, play instruments, and even one stand up comedian already. But none of them had been Richie Tozier. 

As the emcee returned to the stage, once again announcing a name he’d never heard before, Bill had had it. He stood up, asking, “Do you guys want anything? I’m headed to the bar for a refill.”

Mentally taking note of everyone’s orders, he plopped himself down on the stool and waited for Stanley to be free. When the curly-haired bartender finally came his way, Bill tried to muster up a smile, but couldn’t manage it. “Well, Bill! Fancy seeing you here on this open mic night, of all nights,” Stanley teased. 

Bill gave him a look, but relayed the order immediately, figuring they could talk while he finished up the Tanqueray gin and tonic for Eddie (who was VERY specific), a screwdriver for Beverly, and just another beer for Bill. Before Stanley started on the more complicated drinks, he poured a shot of tequila, placing it in front of Bill. 

When he raised his eyebrows questioningly, Stanley simply pushed it closer. “You look like you need it, kid.”

Rolling his eyes at the nickname, Bill hesitated for just a moment, before picking up the shot and downing it. It stung and he stuck his tongue out at the taste, but the warmth was calming almost immediately. “Thanks,” Bill coughed out, and Stan let out a soft chuckle. 

“No problem. You brought some friends?” Stanley asked. “Or are all of these for you?”

“My friends are over there,” Bill replied, pointing them out. “The gin and tonic at the table with me and the screwdriver at the one next to us.”

Nodding, Stanley’s spied them for a moment, as he mixed the drinks in front of him with a precision that impressed Bill. It distracted him from daydreaming and obsessing for at least a moment, and Bill appreciated the tiny mental vacation as his mind shifted back to its fixation. 

Bill zoned out again, clapping a little with the audience when someone left the stage and another performer was introduced. Distracted, he wouldn’t have noticed the woman appearing beside him, were it not for her hand landing on his shoulder. Looking up, Bill saw Beverly’s work friend, whose name he had forgotten, smiling at him. “Hey Bill,” she said simply.

“Hey,” he replied with a friendly tone, as she hung onto him. 

“Bartender, can I get a Sazerac?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious. 

“A Sazerac?” Stanley repeated, his face revealing some concern. “You know it has absinthe in it, right?”

“I do know that, yes,” she responded. “Can you make it?” 

The question came off as a challenge, and Bill turned to look at Beverly’s friend with appreciation. Stanley’s eyes grew wide, but his face remained fairly even, as he took in her posture and expression. 

“Yeah, I know how,” he stated evenly. 

“Great,” she said to Stanley, before turning back to Bill. “Can you bring it to me when he’s finished? I don’t wanna miss any acts. A lot of talent in this bar.”

“Of course,” Bill replied, and she squeezed his shoulder in thanks, letting her finger trail off of his arm as she made her way back to Beverly. 

“Who was that?” Stanley asked, annoyance slipping through his generally stoic tone. 

“I...can’t remember her name, actually,” Bill admitted, before taking a drink from the beer he had ordered.

“Isn’t she your friend?” Stanley asked, clearly unimpressed with Bill. “Are you that drunk right now? Should I cut you off?”

“Hey, she works with my friend, Bev, okay? I don’t know her!” 

“She seemed like she knew you. She was all over you,” Stanley commented, clearly searching for something, but Bill didn’t know what.

Shrugging, Bill replied, “I don’t think so. She’s just having a good time and kind of touch happy generally, I think.”

“I guess it wouldn’t matter anyway, since you’re more into guys, it seems?” Stanley inquired.

“No, it doesn’t matter to me much. I’ve dated plenty of girls. Even Beverly, so it happens.” 

“Really?” Stanley asked, clearly surprised. “How long has that been over?”

“Years now, I think? I don’t know, a long time,” Bill said, his gaze having shifted back to the stage, nervous twitches returning. “Do you know if Richie’s coming tonight?”

With his back turned, Bill missed the small smile on Stanley’s face. “I don’t know. Usually, he calls to reserve a spot, but he didn’t. Sometimes he waits until the free for all time, though, so I’d stick around, just in case.”

Nodding, Bill turned back to the bar, finishing off his beer and asking for another. Stanley obliged, having just completed everyone’s cocktail, and handing Bill a serving tray. “Here you are, kid.”

“Thanks,” Bill said, leaving some cash on the bar for the drinks, and making his way back to his seat. 

And they sat through performance after performance, comedians and ventriloquists, singers and dancers. Even a mime, who was surprisingly good, made his way onto the stage. But Richie Tozier was nowhere to be seen. With each new performer, Bill deflated a little more, feeling more and more hopeless as the seconds turned to minutes turned to hours. 

As Bill returned to the bar for another drink, Beverly’s friend also stood, carrying a small case with her, and heading to the stage. She strode up confidently, adjusting the mic and introducing herself.

“Hey everyone! Awesome performances tonight, I’m really digging the vibe of this place. My name is Patricia, I go by Patty, though. And I’m gonna play the violin for a little while, if you guys are okay with that.”

Her speech was met with hoots and hollers of approval from the crowd, as she picked up her instrument, turning for a moment, before getting into position and starting her song. 

The introduction was loud, but simple sounding, classical violin. But even just seconds in, the song would pick up, and then languidly pause or shift. Something about it could be so simple and then shift to a point that sounded endlessly complicated, even though Patty looked as if she was expending no effort, her eyes closed peacefully as she played. 

The room fell silent, everyone transfixed by the music, that often sounded like at least one, but maybe two or three other violins must have been playing with her. If Bill hadn’t been able to see it with his own eyes, he would have never believed one person could produce that many notes and sounds on one instrument simultaneously. 

It was every kind of violin song in one, the triumphant and loud charge into a battle sure to be won for a moment, before changing to a calm and carefree row boat scene, and then agitated and almost out of this world. 

Bill wasn’t sure if it was this bar or the atmosphere, but something about it was transcendental, the song weaving him through emotions, just as Richie’s singing had. It wasn’t exactly the same; Bill couldn’t describe all of the feelings well if someone had asked him to. The music didn’t lead him naturally, the shifts in tonality and style often a little jarring. 

But it made him feel, deeply and purely, with no words being sung or spoken. And, as Patty played her final note, putting down her instrument, everyone in the crowd cheered, and gave her the only standing ovation of the night. She blushed on stage, bowing, and walked off quickly, sitting back down next to Beverly, who hugged Patty tightly. 

“Patricia,” Bill heard Stanley say softly behind him, as the noise died down.

“Patty,” Bill corrected. “She prefers Patty.”

“Right, thanks,” Stanley responded. 

The emcee returned to the stage, thanking everyone for coming out, giving special commendations to Patty, which lead to another round of applause, before announcing the open mic was over. Bill turned, immediately accepting the shot he heard behind poured behind him. 

He downed the clear liquor, immediately squirming as it hit the back of his throat. “What was that?” Bill asked.

“Vodka,” Stanley replied. 

“Why do you keep giving me shots? Trying to get me drunk and take me from for yourself?” Bill teased, as Stanley laughed genuinely. 

“You’re not my type, but it’s cute how you think you are,” Stanley responded, a smile still on his face. “Look, I can see you’re sad and I’m also trying to get you to have some culture instead of just drinking that nasty ass beer all night.” 

Sighing, Bill turned back to the empty stage, a look of sheer desolation on his face. Stanley watched him, so torn up over missing a chance to even just see Richie, and something in him shifted. 

“Look, Bill. I’ll make you a deal. You make sure Patty comes back in two weeks for open mic, and I’ll take you to see Richie tonight.”

Bill whipped around in his chair, his mouth dropping open. “You know where he is?”

“I might,” Stanley replied. “He’s my roommate, so he might be at our place. I’d bet on it, actually.”

“Hold on,” Bill replied, clear irritation in his tone. “Richie is your roommate? ‘Cause you made it seem like you didn’t even really know him.”

“Of course,” Stanley replied flatly. “I didn’t know if you were a creep or genuinely interested in him or just looking for a hook-up. So I had to vet you first.”

Frowning, Bill tried to look annoyed, but he understood the desire to protect someone close to him. And, even though he definitely was irritated, Bill couldn’t be too angry, his heart leaping at the opportunity to get to see Richie, hope restored once more. 

“Deal,” Bill replied, putting on his jacket, heart pounding in anticipation. 

“Okay, let me close up, you can say goodbye to your friends real quick, and we’ll see if Richie’s at home,” Stanley replied, amazed at how Bill’s whole demeanor changed, his movement quick and easy, a light shining in his eyes. 

“Sorry we didn’t get to see your man, Billy boy,” Beverly said, as she tucked her hair behind her ear. All his friends had their jackets on and were just waiting for him so they could head out. 

“Yeah, but it’s looking up, actually. I guess Stanley, the bartender, lives with him and is gonna let me swing by their place to meet him,” Bill informed them, an easy smile on his face.

“That’s great, Bill!” Patty replied, as Beverly looked at Eddie.

“Yeah, I guess,” Eddie responded. “Although, it seems a little weird, right? To just go over to their place after last call? Are you sure you can even trust this Stanley guy? Maybe you should just hold out until next time.”

“Thanks, Patty,” Bill said, smiling at her, before turning to Eddie. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Your knight in shining plaid knows how to take care of himself. You’re cute when you worry though, Eds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, before replying, “please don’t. And fine, just text me when you get home, okay?”

“Will do,” Bill said, pulling his shorter friend into a hug. He gave everyone in the group a smile, before heading over to the bar, Stanley handing him a trash bag. 

 

Locking the door behind him, Stanley lead Bill across the street. As they passed the bus stop, Bill picked up his pace. “Are we walking all the way there?”

“Well, we were,” Stanley said, before turning abruptly and pulling his keys out of his pocket. “But now, we’ve made it.”

“Are you serious?” Bill asked. “You two live like a two-minute walk from the bar you work at?” 

He tried not to be irritated, but the thought that Richie was this close weeks ago, probably just having walked home after his performance, was agonizing to think about. So close and yet so far away. 

“The bar I own,” Stanley corrected. “And yeah. It’s a nice commute.”

“Oh wow, that’s amazing, Stanley,” Bill remarked, impressed but unsurprised, once he thought about it. The bar was clean, efficient, and definitely had the same air that Stanley did.

“Thanks,” he replied.

They climbed the stairs, Stanley in front and Bill following right behind, his heart beating faster with every step. As they reached the top, Stanley stopped in front of his door, before turning around to face Bill. “Okay, Romeo, wait here and I’ll see if Julian is in.”

A grin on his face, Bill nodded, sneaking a peek into the apartment as the door opened and closed. He stood there, fingers drumming on his leg, as Bill tried to calm himself, stop from fidgeting so much. He was nervous about making a good first impression and the last way he needed to come off as weird or twitchy. 

The door opened, Stanley in the doorway, before coming out and closing the door behind him. Not a good sign, Bill thought. Stanley frowned a little, clearly unhappy about something, but Bill assumed it was just breaking the bad news to him. “Sorry, Bill. Looks like Richie’s still out.”

Sighing, Bill nodded, but wondered again if fate was trying to discourage him. Maybe he and Richie weren’t meant to even meet. Maybe Bill was pushing it too hard. Maybe that moment should just remain in his mind, perfect, untarnished. Maybe Bill was just being crazy.

“Thanks for trying,” Bill replied. “I’ll make sure Patty is at the next open mic.”

“Ah, that’s alright, Bill. I didn’t keep up my end of the bargain, so you don’t need to either.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Bill said, before reaching his arms around to give Stanley a hug. The action felt out of nowhere, and it took Stanley a moment to reciprocate, arms finally patting Bill on the back before they parted. When he looked at Bill with an inquisitive eye, Bill smiled and said, “Thanks for listening to my whining and looking out for me tonight. It was nice.”

“No problem,” Stanley said. He realized then that Bill still had one hand out, clearly trying to give him something. It was a business card for Bill Denbrough, an author. 

“My number’s on there, if you ever need me or want to hang out or anything,” Bill stated, and Stanley nodded in response, putting it in his pocket.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stanley said, before pointing behind him, towards his door. “This is my stop, but hopefully I’ll see you around, Bill.”

“You will,” Bill said with a slight smile. “Bye Stanley.”

Before walking back into his apartment, Stanley watched Bill walk down the stairs, wondering if the card was for him or some kind of ploy to see or talk to Richie. But Bill had seemed genuine enough, so he decided not to worry about it.

Walking into the apartment, Stanley’s eyes immediately fell on the mess in the kitchen and living room he’d seen earlier when he’d done his sweep for Richie. He made a mental note to bug Richie about his messy habits once he was feeling better. Stanley hung his keys up and listened carefully.

If he didn’t move, or make a sound, Stanley could hear a soft whimpering, which he followed to Richie’s room. Normally, he wouldn’t just open the door, but these weren’t normal circumstances; they were heartbreak circumstances. So Stanley pushed the door open and made his way onto Richie’s bed, wrapping his arms around his roommate, as he continued to cry.

Stanley felt bad for lying to Bill, but right now, Richie was his priority. As he held Richie, who shook with every sob, Stanley tightened his grasp, petting Richie’s hair and kissing Richie on his forehead. 

“It’ll be okay,” Stanley chanted like a mantra to Richie, over and over, hoping that with each new recitation, the phrase would chip away at the wall of sadness surrounding his friend, breaking through, so Richie would actually hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Patty plays is called The Last Rose of Summer by Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst. It's super complicated, but I high key recommend listening to it!


	4. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been weeks and Bill's obsession is starting to take a toll on the group. Stanley thinks that Richie finally might be ready to meet a new guy.

“He’s late...again,” Eddie complained, sighing in frustration, his foot tapping impatiently. 

The hostess was watching them again. Beverly fixed a polite, mirthless smile on her face, as she said through clenched teeth, “we can only wait here so long. And I’m starving.”

“Maybe she’ll let us sit and Bill can just join us when he gets here?” Patty offered. “Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

And, as they made their way to the table, following the hostess, Eddie and Beverly shared a look, both clearly impressed. 

“Bev, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this already, but Patty has been a great addition to the group, and might be my favorite now,” Eddie stated. Patty smiled and laid her hand on Eddie’s squeezing it in thanks. 

“I’d be offended that she’s replacing me, but honestly, it’s a smart move and she deserves it,” Beverly replied earnestly, smiling at Patty.

“You guys have to stop! It’s not even my birthday,” Patty replied, embarrassed by the praise, but grinning despite herself. 

“Not yet,” Beverly said. “But it is in like a month or two, right?”

Patty nodded and answered, “February 11th.” 

Eddie checked his watch for the fifteenth time, his finger tapping constantly on the table. Beverly and Patty exchanged an unnoticed look, before Beverly said, “How long before we assume he died?”

Glaring at her, Eddie pushed his sleeve down to cover his watch entirely before holding up his hands in surrender. “Happy?” 

Beverly nodded but waited, as Eddie sighed, clearly ramping up to complain. “I called him last night and Bill said he’d be here on time and yet, here we are.”

“I mean, none of us have seen him since the show where Patty killed and Bill’s mystery man remained a mystery, right?” Beverly asked. Eddie nodded, while Patty scrunched her face up at the compliment before nodding as well. “So maybe that wasn’t him on the phone. Maybe it was a doppelganger with the same voice as Bill,” Beverly remarked, acting shocked.

“God Bev, I thought you were going to give me an actual plausible theory here,” Eddie complained. 

“Who’s to say what is plausible and what isn’t in this world, Eddie?” Beverly asked, clearly trying to cheer Eddie up. Bill’s obsessive crush and absence from the group had really been taking a toll on him. “Have you gotten to talk to cute grandma boy yet?”

Nodding his head, Eddie scanned the menu for something to eat. “Yeah, I did. He came to the desk when I was entering some stuff into the computer and asked me about working there. And I asked him about the sunflowers and he said he grows them on his terrace in the city! I always assumed they had to be from out in the country or something. Although, Mike mentioned his uncle does own a farm. Maybe that’s how he knows….”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Patty interrupted, as Eddie finally looked up. “You said Mike? You know this name now?”

Laughing, Eddie bit his lip playfully and nodded. “Yeah, he introduced himself, when he asked if I was Eddie. Said he wanted to put a name to whoever is taking such good care of his grandmother.”

Beverly smacked Eddie on the arm softly in celebration. “Eddie, that’s fantastic! See what happens when you aren’t so focused on….”

Before she could finish, Eddie started fake coughing loudly. Beverly looked at him confused, until she saw Bill walk around the table to take the seat next to Eddie. “Hey guys, sorry I’m late. Catch me up. What are we talking about?”

“You,” Beverly said, batting her lashes at him sarcastically, as Bill rolled his eyes. Eddie gave her a look, begging her not to continue. “I’m kidding. We were actually talking about Mike, Eddie’s future boyfriend.”

Opening his mouth to speak, Eddie was cut off by Bill who immediately asked, “Mike? Is that the guy from the hospital?”

Eddie wasn’t sure what emotion was in Bill’s tone. Irritation? Surprise? Concern? “Yeah, same guy. He stopped to chat with me for a while yesterday. Gave me his number.”

Beverly’s and Patty’s jaws both dropped in surprise. “No way! That’s awesome. Eddie got game,” Beverly announced, while Eddie rolled his eyes, a smile on his face. 

“We should meet this guy,” Bill practically commanded. When no one responded, he looked up and added, “Don’t you think?”

“Isn’t it a little early to have him meet the parents?” Beverly asked, placing her hand on Bill’s playfully. “I think it’d be nice to get a look at him, but it’s up to Eddie.”

Everyone shifted their gaze to Eddie, who froze mid-bite, hand hovering near his face. He set the piece of bread in his hand down, as he contemplated how to answer, but heard a voice before Eddie could settle on how to respond.

“Why don’t you invite him to the open mic night?” Patty asked, as all eyes fell on her. “That way it’s low key, you can get to know him in a relaxed way that’s not quite a date, but can be if you guys want, and we can get a feel for him. Best of both worlds.”

“Patty coming in for the save again. How would I live without her?” Beverly asked, as Patty pushed her playfully. “What say you, Eddie?”

Eddie turned to Bill, who shrugged as he reached for a piece of bread himself. “Yeah, I’ll call him tonight and ask if can join us.”

“Awesome! And then we can be your wingman and women and get you laid!” Beverly exclaimed as she slapped her hand on the table. 

“A little louder, Bev, I don’t think they heard you across the street,” Bill chastised, and Beverly grimaced in apology, realizing people were looking at them. 

“Well, if Eddie’s bringing someone, I’m gonna ask Ben if he wants to come,” Beverly said, with Eddie and Bill both laughing to themselves. “What?”

“Hope he doesn’t have a heart attack when you ask him out. I’m not gonna be there to try and revive him,” Eddie said, as Bill held out a hand and they high-fived. 

“C’mon guys, he’s not that into me,” Beverly protested.

“Yeah, he is,” Bill replied, mouth full of bread as he spoke. “We were together and I wasn’t nearly as into you as Ben is.”

“Well, maybe that’s why we broke up, you fucking dick,” Beverly hissed, slapping the food out of his hand. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be rude. But Ben is super in love with you,” Bill stated, before picking his food back up. 

“Is everyone bringing a date now?” Patty asked, clearly distraught. “Should I bring one?”

“Not everyone, Patty,” Beverly responded. “Bill is gonna go and desperately hope that his one true love actually shows up this time. You know, if he’s even real.”

“He is real, thank you very fucking much,” Bill said, irritation clear. 

“Well, Bill, you wanna be my date until he shows up?” Patty asked casually.

Bill went to respond, but Eddie shook his head, saying, “Swallow first, you barbaric asshole.”

He swallowed, saying, “Sorry Eddie. Yeah, sure, that sounds good.”

“Great!” Patty replied, as Beverly turned to Eddie, who looked like he might be sick. But, as he locked eyes with Beverly, Eddie could tell what she was saying to him silently. Look how easy that was and would have been if you had ever decided to just do it.

“Well, I gotta get to work,” Eddie declared suddenly, standing to leave.

“Eddie, we haven’t ordered yet,” Patty pointed out.

“I know...but we took too long to start and now it’s busy and work is soon, so I gotta go. I’ll see you guys at the show, though,” Eddie said quickly, as he grabbed his messenger bag. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie. It’s my fault. I owe you lunch,” Bill promised, and Eddie simply nodded before power walking out of the restaurant. 

Eddie waited until he got into the alley beside the building before letting his tears finally fall, quietly crying as he took a few deep breaths, trying to compose himself. 

\-------

“I’m home!” Stanley called, as he closed the door behind him with his foot, arms overladen with groceries. Richie had been depressed from his break up and Stanley had appointed himself as Richie’s caretaker. He made sure Richie was eating and showering and, most of all, not drinking. His roommate could handle his liquor usually, but Stanley knew Richie turned to vices to cope. 

“Oh joy,” Richie said, voice hoarse. Stanley wondered if it was from crying or because he’d just woken up at...6 p.m.

Placing the groceries on the counter, Stanley walked over to Richie and reached down, grabbing the blanket and pulling it out from underneath him. The act sent Richie tumbling to the ground and groaning in pain. 

“Jesus, you asshole! What did I fucking do to you?” Richie complained, rubbing his shoulder trying to alleviate the pain from the fall.

“Shut up, stop being a lazy bum, and come help me put the groceries away! It’s the least you can do,” Stanley insisted, before heading back to the kitchen, knowing Richie would help as soon as he got up. Sometimes comforting someone was holding and reassuring them, but other times it was just forcing them to act like a person.

Rubbing his eyes, Richie joined Stanley in the kitchen, glasses falling back on his nose as he pulled his hands away. He was clearly tired or exhausted, but Stanley wasn’t sure which, Maybe it was both. 

“Pantry bags?” Richie asked, as Stanley pointed to the far side of the counter. 

Stanley had a system when he went shopping. He’d rearrange the groceries in the bags into what went in the freezer, refrigerator, and pantry separately, if the cashier didn’t do it first. Richie insisted it was anal and insane, but Stanley liked the organization and how easy it made putting the groceries away, no matter who was doing it.

For a while, the men stood there, silently placing groceries on shelves. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence; on a normal day, Stanley might have even enjoyed it. But Stanley knew how out of character it was for Richie to be quiet, and the reason behind his silence. And all that knowledge made the silence feel disconcerting and expansive, like it might consume them both. 

“I think you should come tonight. Do some stand-up,” Stanley finally said. Richie continued shelving, not responding to Stanley’s suggestion. But he wasn’t giving up just yet. 

“C’mon, Richie. Don’t you think it’s been long enough? Dumbass knows if he sets one foot in the bar, I’ll break a bottle and slit his throat. And I think it’ll make you feel better, more...normal. You could even tell some jokes about him, you know? Make it therapeutic. Talk about his tiny dick or something,” Stanley suggested, watching for Richie’s reaction.

Laughing as he exhaled, Richie replied, “He didn’t have a tiny dick.”

“I didn’t need to know that. But neither does anybody else, huh?” Stanley proposed, and Richie smiled at the clear discomfort on his roommate’s face. 

The silence returned as they turned back to their task, but Stanley figured he had tried his best. 

“Okay, I’ll go,” Richie said, more to the cupboard than to Stanley.

“Really? You will?” 

“Yeah. And I’ll take my usual slot. 10 p.m., if you don’t mind asking the boss for me,” Richie said, a smile on his face again. Stanley smiled back in celebration.

“He’s been kind of an asshole lately, but I think I can butter him up,” Stanley replied.

“What happened?”

“Oh, his roommate got dumped by some douchebag, and it’s really brought him down, too,” Stanley replied, shaking his head in pity.

“Ah, that fucking sucks,” Richie said, his tone commiserating. “But I heard his roommate is almost a functioning human again, so things are looking up.”

“His roommate was never a functioning human,” Stanley replied, as Richie glared and threw a loaf of bread at Stanley’s head. He ducked just in time, catching the bag before it hit the ground, and turning to look smugly at Richie.

“Damn you and your baseball reflexes,” Richie cursed, but smirked at Stanley. 

“It’s a gift. Hey, I’ll cook us some dinner, and then I have to go get the bar ready. Why don’t you take a shower and dinner should be ready by the time you get out?” 

“Yes, mom,” Richie said, giving Stanley a kiss on the cheek as he passed him. 

“God, Richie, you know I hate having your nasty ass germs on me,” Stanley said, reaching into one of the unpacked bags for a Clorox wipe. 

“I know you love me, Stanny,” Richie called over his shoulder, as he headed to his bedroom.

“I don’t!” Stanley called, but smiled to himself. Richie was throwing things at him, insulting him, cursing, and even showing gross and inappropriate displays of affection. He was back to his usual self.

Stanley abandoned the remaining groceries, leaning over the counter in the kitchen towards Richie’s room. As he heard the water turn on, Stanley made his way to the phone, pulling Bill’s business card out of his pocket.

“Hey Bill, it’s Stanley. Yeah, yeah, listen. Richie’s coming tonight, performing at 10. Make sure you’re there,” Stanley said into the phone, head turned the whole time, trying to make sure Richie wasn’t overhearing him.

Since Bill had given Stanley his number, the two of them had been talking on the phone frequently. Sometimes it was about Richie, but mostly it was just chatting. Stanley told himself it was to make sure he was the right guy to introduce his friend to, but he was starting to really like the guy. Despite being an impulsive, romantic idiot, Bill was caring and funny and smarter than he looked. 

It had been too early to introduce them before, but Richie was right when he said things were looking up. Richie was gonna do stand up. He was helping with chores. He was being his terrible self again. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to introduce someone new into the mix. And the more Stanley spoke to Bill, the more he felt they’d get along. 

Both men were passionate, creative and forward. But Bill also had a sense of calm and ease, which Richie often lacked and Richie had a sense of adventure and a way letting things roll off his back that no one could match. Plus, Stanley was finding a thrill in playing matchmaker, despite finding the idea distasteful. He was turning into a shadchan for gentile men. 

Bill had been talking, but Stanley barely heard any of it over his own thoughts and concerns for Richie.

“Is Patty coming tonight?” Stanley asked, before quickly following it with, “I mean, should I put her name down in a slot or not?”

At the confirmation that she was coming, he smiled to himself, his heart picking up speed. She had been vivacious, sarcastic, and smug, but Stanley couldn’t stop thinking about Patty. Her performance had been the most stirring act he had ever seen. It was poetic, moving, and left his head buzzing with thoughts of her. He’d fallen asleep more than once with the image of Patty lying on his chest as he drifted off to sleep. Stanley hated how much he understood Bill as the days went by, desperately wishing for some alone time with someone so magnetic. 

“Alright, Bill, wear something nice and I’ll introduce you to Richie after his set.” Richie wouldn’t appreciate Bill’s dressing up, that was more for Stanley to see how committed Bill was. 

“Okay, see you tonight. And you better look your best. Bye.”

“Who was that?” Richie asked, as he strolled into the kitchen. He was clad only in a towel around his waist, dripping on the floor as he dried his hair with another towel.

Stanley jumped, having gotten distracted just long enough to be spooked. Had Richie heard Stanley talking about him? “No one, just a friend of mine.”

“Friend? Telling your friend to dress well and you’ll see them tonight? Sounds like a date to me,” Richie teased.

Smiling back with self-satisfaction, Stanley simply replied, “Maybe. We’ll just have to see how the night goes.”

Richie’s whole face lit up as his roommate spoke. “Stanley Uris, is that you? You sly fucking dog. Is this that guy you keep calling? Just because I was moping didn’t mean I wasn’t paying attention. Especially because you sprint to the phone every goddamn time it rings.”

Nodding, Stanley felt goosebumps spreading over him. The irony was tickling him so much, it was giving him chills. If only Richie knew. “Yeah, his name is Bill. I’ve been meaning to introduce you two, and since you’re both coming tonight, I think we’ll be able to swing it.”

“Great! I can’t wait to meet this guy and give him the old roommate sit down about treating my Stanny like the fucking prince he is,” Richie called, as he walked back to his room. 

Stanley smiled to himself as he heard the timer for dinner go off, pulling their chicken pot pies out of the oven and setting the table; the grin seemed to be plastered on his face, never wavering. Richie and Bill were finally going to meet and he was going to get to see Patty again, maybe even have a proper conversation with her this time. He’d even purchased some high brow absinthe for her. Tonight was gonna be a night to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may have been some filler, but next time, when they're back at the club, things are gonna go down, y'all.


	5. The Final Countdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos ensues as Mike joins the group, mistakes are made, and Richie finally makes an appearance.

As instructed by Stanley, he wore his best outfit. But Bill Denbrough was not the king of fashion, so he walked into the bar clad in a button up plaid shirt, a skinny black tie, and some dark grey chinos. It was his special occasion outfit, his anniversary get up, and his rare but intermittent church attire all in one. 

Bill was aware that his attire probably wasn’t well suited for any of those events, but he hoped that, for once, it would be perfect for the venue. He hoped that it would give him the confidence he needed to finally meet Richie. Bill himself hadn’t paid much attention to Richie’s outfit the first night he saw him, too mesmerized by his sultry, dulcet voice to pay his physical appearance much attention. But he also knew it wouldn’t hurt for Richie to see him at his best.

Walking into the bar, Bill scanned the premises, before his eyes fell on Eddie, who had already reserved some tables, his fingers nervously drumming on the table. Bill smiled, observing Eddie for a moment, in his natural state of promptness and anxiety. His friend was always a source of comfort and familiarity in a world that felt like it was in a constant flux and, for that, Bill was consistently grateful. 

“You planning on performing a drum solo tonight?” Bill teased, as he sat down next to Eddie. He was greeted with Eddie’s scrunched and frustrated face, but Bill knew him well enough to know that Eddie wasn’t actually mad.

“Shut up, Bill! It’s my first date in what feels like forever. Give me a fucking break,” Eddie replied, looking away, before continuing. “Speaking of which...I was kind of saving that seat for Mike.”

“Oh, right, of course,” Bill said, moving to the table right beside Eddie’s, that was being claimed by one of Eddie’s gloves. As he returned it to Eddie, Bill asked, “Is he here yet?”

“No, not yet. But I just want to make sure he has a spot next to me when he gets here, you know?” Eddie explained, looking at Bill with concern that would go unnoticed. 

“Yeah, of course,” Bill said, looking around the bar as he did, trying not to sound annoyed. Couldn’t he sit with his best friend until Eddie’s date got there? 

“Is Richie here yet?” Eddie asked, staving off his jealousy as much as he possibly could. 

“Umm, I don’t see him,” Bill replied, as he surveyed the room. “He doesn’t perform until later, though, and they live like two minutes from here, so he’s probably not here yet.”

“You mean Stan does,” Eddie stated, but was met with a confused look from Bill. He rolled his eyes before continuing.

“Really?” Eddie replied in disbelief. “You think Stan and Richie are really roommates? And that he wasn’t just trying to, I don’t know, lure you there for himself?”

“I’m pretty sure that wasn’t it, Eddie,” Bill answered, surprised that was even an option in Eddie’s mind. 

“Have you actually seen Richie there? Or talked to him at all?”

“Well, no, but…,” Bill replied, before being interrupted.

“I’m just saying, Bill, you can be kind of dense about these things. Other people’s feelings often go way over your head,” Eddie explained, as Bill shook his head. “Also the outfit, Bill? Really? You need to buy some new fucking clothes.”

“Thanks for looking out for me, Eddie, but you’re wrong about this. And I look fucking hot,” Bill finished, just as he felt a hand land on his shoulder. 

“My my, aren’t you a handsome devil this evening, Bill,” Patty said flirtatiously, Bill smiling and bowing his head slightly in response. 

“Why, thank you. You are looking lovely as well,” Bill answered, giving Eddie a pointed look, before standing up to pull Patty into a hug and pull out her chair. 

Patty grinned at Bill as she sat down next to him, neither of them noticing that Eddie’s drum solo had picked up again. They chatted briefly, before Patty reached over and grabbed Bill’s arm. He turned to her as she said, “Bill, be a dear and grab me a Sazerac from the bar, would you? It seems like the bartender does, in fact, know how to make it.”

“Sure, I can do that,” Bill said, patting Patty’s hand as he rose. “And it’s Stan. The bartender’s name.”

“Right, you told us the other day. Well, give Stan my thanks,” Patty replied, as Bill turned to head towards the bar, and Eddie sunk lower in his chair. 

As he walked over to the bar, Bill smiled, buzzing with energy. Stan promised him that Richie was coming tonight and it was finally going to happen. He was going to get to meet, to talk to, to get a proper look at the man who had been haunting his dreams, stealing hours of productivity, as Bill’s thoughts roamed towards him, and settle some of the endless curiosity Bill had when he tried to picture what he was like. 

But as he had walked to the bar in the daze, Bill was yanked back into reality when he heard Stanley say, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Taken aback by his language and anger, Bill stuttered, caught off guard and struggling to put his words together. In the end, all he came up with was, “W-what?”

Sighing, Stanley reached up to rub his temples, eyes closed but his expression still outright frustrated. While he breathed for a moment, trying to calm himself down, Bill noticed that Stanley was more dressed up than usual. His polo had been replaced by a nice button up, his curls were tamer, and he had a bowtie around his neck. 

“I tell you Richie’s finally gonna be here, and you are pulling out Patty’s chair and she’s touching you and smiling at you and you’re hugging like you’ve known each other forever, when a few weeks ago, you didn’t know her name!” Stanley hissed, not wanting to cause a scene in his own bar. 

Still confused, Bill replied, “Oh, um, Patty and I are here on like a friend date thing, she’s just messing around.”

“You’re on a date?” Stanley repeated, incredulously. “I told you Richie was coming tonight, and you brought a date?!”

“No, no, no, it was a joke,” Bill explained, holding up his arms in surrender. “Beverly was asking Ben to come and Eddie has a date from the hospital, and Patty said we should go together since everyone else was.”

“Let me get this straight,” Stanley said, leaning towards Bill. “You, a bisexual man, came to an open mic night to see someone you’ve been talking about non-stop perform and to finally meet said man that you have a massive crush on. And you brought a female date. And not just any female date, one I have seen flirt with you before, and even asked you about, which you ignored.”

“I guess so?” Bill responded, still not entirely understanding what was going on. “What’s your point?”

“You’re not meeting Richie. That’s my point,” Stanley said sternly. 

“Stan, what the fuck? Are you kidding me?” Bill asked, distraught and exacerbated. “What did I even….”

But Stanley interrupted him before he could finish. “Yes, I am serious. Richie just got out of a relationship with some shit bag who toyed with him and pretended to care, while he saw other people behind his back, and basically crushed him. I wanted to like you, Bill, but you keep doing this stupid shit, and Richie doesn’t need another guy to walk in, tell him he’s the greatest thing in the fucking world, and just play games and be a douche and break him.”

“So, if I see you talking to Richie, then you’re banned from my bar and I will personally beat the shit out of you. Now, go have fun on your date,” Stanley finished, spitting the words more than saying them. 

“Stan, c’mon…” Bill started, but Stanley held up his hand to silence him.

“No, not anymore. Stan is what my friends call me. You can call me bartender. Do you want a drink?” Stanley asked flatly.

“No,” Bill replied, getting up and heading back over to his friends, wondering how things always seemed to go from hopeful to hopeless at the drop of a hat. He’d try to talk to Stan again later, but tonight was turning out to be a bust...again. 

As he returned to the group, Bill slowed his pace as he noticed someone new. A tall, handsome, dark-skinned man was sitting at Eddie’s table, laughing at something Eddie had said. Must be Mike, Bill thought, as he returned to his seat.

“No drinks, Bill?” Patty asked curiously.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. Sorry,” Bill replied, his face sullen, his tone sad and matter-of-fact.

“That’s alright, I’m not too thirsty yet,” Patty replied, tone reassuring, but all Bill did was nod in response. 

“Anyway, Mike, this is Bill, my best friend,” Eddie said, turning to introduce them. “Bill, this is Mike, from the hospital.”

“Nice to finally meet you, Bill,” Mike said, as he reached out, silently asking to shake Bill’s hand. “Eddie talks about you a lot.”

“Shut up, no I don’t,” Eddie insisted, pushing Mike playfully, the two of them sharing a smile.

Bill looked at them but didn’t respond, didn’t even accept Mike’s handshake offer. Eventually, Mike just retracted his hand and cleared his throat. An awkward tension filled the air, no one quite sure how to react. It was Bill who finally broke the silence.

“So Mike, you hit on a lot of the people at the hospital? Is that like your go to pick up place?” Bill asked, a mirthless smile on his face.

“Bill, what the hell?” Eddie asked, anger clear on his face. 

“I’m just trying to get to know him, Eds. Can’t your knight in shining plaid be protective?” Bill asked, before turning to Mike. “Seriously though, if it is, it’s very creative. Most people stick to the typical stuff with coffee shops and clubs, but I am sure the hospital is swimming with attractive people who make a lot of money.”

“It probably is, but I wouldn’t know,” Mike responded, surprisingly calm. “I’ve only ever really paid attention to Eddie. Kind of takes up all my focus.”

Mike laid his hand on Eddie’s, whose face lit up at Mike’s words. Bill sighed audibly, and Eddie shifted his gaze to glare at him, just as Bill felt himself being lifted out of his chair. 

“A word?” Beverly snarled, lips right at his ear, as she held him up by his collar. Bill hadn’t even noticed her arrival, but his disheartening conversation with Stanley had left him in a fog.

As they stepped out into the alley, Beverly immediately pushed Bill forcefully against the wall. “Ow, Jesus, Bev, can you chill out?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Beverly yelled and Bill sighed, tired of hearing those words over and over that night. 

“About what? What are you talking about?” Bill shouted back, exasperated. 

“Mike! He’s being so nice and sweet and loving to Eddie, and then you came over and started acting like your Eddie’s crazy mom, or a jealous ex or something. So what I want to know is, what the fuck is going on?” Beverly explained condescendingly.

“I’m just trying to be protective, you know? Vet the guy! We don’t know him. Maybe he doesn’t deserve Eddie and he’s just pulling out all the charms,” Bill replied, but Beverly was shaking her head. 

“Eddie’s not yours to protect, Bill. He’s your friend, sure. Your best friend even. But you can’t act like this when….” Beverly stopped abruptly, looking into Bill’s eyes. Bill stared back at her, his face confused and softening, as Beverly put a hand over her mouth. 

“When what?” Bill asked softly, pushing himself off the wall. 

“It’s...God. Okay, it’s not my place to tell you this, but I am going to tell you so you understand. And you can’t tell Eddie. Got it?” Beverly said sternly, waiting for Bill to reassure her.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. What is it?” Bill asked insistently. 

“Eddie’s into you. He has been for, like, forever. And he’s always been afraid to tell you. And that’s why he’s basically never had a real boyfriend. Because he always thinks that maybe, just maybe, he has a chance with you and you’ll make a move. But you and I both know you aren’t going to, and you would never have even thought to before I told you this,” Beverly explained, as Bill looked down, trying to process the information. 

“So that’s why, when you defend him and act like a jealous idiot, it’s a lot worse with Eddie than if you were protecting me from some guy. Because then it seems like you’re harboring jealousy because you want him for yourself. So do you?” Beverly asked, almost certain she knew the answer already.

Bill shook his head, looking up a Beverly, his head still down. She took a step forward and pushed him into the wall again. “Then leave them the fuck alone! And go apologize...now.”

Rubbing his shoulder, Bill simply said, “Okay.” He walked towards the door, stopping only when he realized Beverly wasn’t behind him. “You coming?”

“No, I gotta smoke. I’ll head inside in a minute.”

As the door closed, Beverly propped herself up on a wall, pulling a cigarette out of the pack with her lips. Before she could light it, though, she heard the sound of a single person clapping, the noise reverberating off the brick walls. Turning her head, Beverly found the source at the end of the alley, as a stranger with dark curly hair, huge glasses, and a bright pink Hawaiian shirt applauded as he approached her. 

“Nicely done. You make it a habit of beating the shit out of men in alleys? Should I be scared?” he teased, a smirk on his face.

“Only if they piss me off. So you don’t have to be scared yet,” Beverly replied, and the man grinned back.

“I like your style. I didn’t catch most of the conversation, but boyfriend, I assume?” he questioned, leaning on the wall next to her.

“Ex-boyfriend, actually. But not a lover’s quarrel. We’re friends, but he’s an idiot, so I have to smack him back into reality every once and awhile.”

“Ah, I’ve been there, sista. Preaching to the choir. Can I bum one of those from you?” he asked, reaching before she had even answered. 

“I don’t share cigarettes with people I don’t know,” Beverly responded, pulling the pack away. 

“Well, I’m Richie and you’re clearly the Black Widow, so I think we’re good,” Richie replied, holding his hand out for the promised cigarette. 

“It’s Beverly,” she said, as she handed him a cigarette mechanically, trying not to let her jaw drop. Richie? This guy was weird, disheveled and badly dressed. This couldn’t be Bill’s Richie...could it? 

“That guy was fucking hot, though. The one you were beating up. Why’d you guys break up?” Richie asked, placing the cigarette between his lips, lighting it with his own lighter.

“We’re just better as friends. I think it was an infatuation that didn’t last.”

Richie chuckled as he breathed the smoke out. “Story of my life, Beverly.”

Looking him up and down, Beverly studied the man standing next to her, wondering if he could possibly be the guy Bill had described. He’d used words like soulful, deep, and brooding. But the man in front of Beverly felt like the antithesis, with his neon colored clothing, easy smiles, and goofy attitude. 

They smoked in silence for a few minutes before Richie took a long drag, finishing off his cigarette and stamping it out. “Well, I’d love to chat more with a sexy murder beast like you, but duty calls.”

“Are you performing tonight?” Beverly asked, fishing for confirmation that this was indeed Bill’s mystery man. 

“Sure am. My stand up set is in...twenty seconds, so I should probably head in. Save me a cigarette for after, though?” Richie asked, and Beverly nodded. But as the door closed, she smiled and shook her head, taking a long drag from what was left of her cigarette. Tonight was going to be more interesting than she thought. 

\-----

As Bill started asking tough questions at the tables, Patty decided it was time for her to get that drink herself. Anything to get away from the ensuing drama. And, as she approached the bar, Patty’s gaze fell on the bartender. Bill had mentioned his name more than once, but Patty cursed her terrible memory, as she racked her brain for it. Something with a ‘St’ at the beginning. Stewart, maybe? Stephen?

Whatever his name, the bartender’s eyes locked onto Patty, and she smiled in response. He looked a little different today, a little more buttoned up, which wasn’t Patty’s usual type, but it was working for him. Before she could even get all the way there, Patty saw him pull out the ingredients for her drink of choice, making her smile even wider. Smart man. 

Sitting on the stool in front of him, Patty watched as he made the drink, commenting, “I’ve always liked a prepared and efficient man.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Stanley replied automatically, more matter-of-fact than flirtatious, but Patty laughed all the same. 

He finished mixing her drink, pushing it towards her delicately. Patty nodded a thank you and took a sip, immediately impressed with how smooth the absinthe was. Taking a long drink and savoring the feeling of it, Patty looked up at Stanley, her eyes dancing as she asked, “Did you buy this expensive absinthe for me?”

Stanley froze at her question, opening his mouth to answer, before closing it again. He grabbed a rag to wipe down the bar, which gave him something to do while he tried to answer, instead of just looking like a deer in headlights. “You think you’re the only absinthe drinker in the whole bar?” he retorted. 

For the record, she was. Stanley had been surprised by her order before, glad he had at least one bottle of absinthe in storage, and had used most of it on her drinks that night. But Patty didn’t need to know any of that, even if the perceptive look in her eyes made it seem like she already did. 

“Touché,” was Patty’s simply reply, eyes lively from their banter. She took another sip before asking, “So, what are you all dressed up for? Or whom?”

You, Stanley thought, but kept it to himself. He could barely contain his excitement that Patty had noticed his outfit. And her correct use of whom was killing him. Intelligence was sexy and it only made Patty sexier. “Do I have to be dressed up for someone? Couldn’t I just dress up for myself?”

Rolling her eyes, Patty gave Stanley a look like she was done playing his games, but smiled all the same. “Are you going to answer every question I ask with a question?”

“No,” Stanley replied, suppressing a smirk as he did. 

His clever response earned the reward of Patty’s lilting laugh and Stanley felt a fluttering sensation in his chest, instead of his stomach. “Prepared, efficient, witty and well dressed. Is it possible you’re single?”

Stanley bit his bottom lip, trying to keep his breath steady, as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Her question sounded playful, but he had to wonder if Patty had ulterior motives outside of pure curiosity to ask. Even if she was there on a date with Bill Denbrough. “It’s not only possible, it’s factual.”

Patty hummed softly, looking at Stanley as if he were a statue in a museum, appraising him. “How could that be?” she wondered, leaning forward to get an even closer look. 

Beckoning him with one finger, Patty instructed Stanley to lean forward and he complied, elbows resting on the bar, propping him up. At this distance, he could smell her lavender and sage perfume, and Stanley basked in it for a moment. The aroma was clean, confident and complex; it was exactly right for her. 

As he focused on the scent, Stanley’s eyes had fallen closed for a moment. When he opened them again, Patty was even closer than before, reaching her hand towards his collar. She paused, but when Stanley didn’t move out of the way, Patty took hold of his bow tie. 

“I think I figured it out. Despite your charm and good looks, you’re a little stuffy. Has anyone ever told you that?” Stanley nodded slowly, and Patty grinned, before getting to work. Fingers nimble and precise, she untied Stanley’s bowtie with deft care and placed it on the counter next to her. He prayed silently that she couldn’t feel his heartbeat through the collar of his shirt somehow.

But she wasn’t finished just yet. Patty looked Stanley in the eye again, before focusing on his shirt with both hands, undoing the first two buttons on his shirt. Then she leaned back, admiring her handiwork. “There. Now you can breathe.”

That was entirely false, as Stanley simply nodded, speechless, feeling like he’d never breathe again. Patty giggled, picking up her drink and winking at him, as she got up and headed back to her table. She saw Bill returning from the alley outside, but Beverly was nowhere in sight. 

He waited until Patty had turned around, but Stanley could barely suppress the grin as it spread across his face. Maybe Bill was right; Patty seemed pretty touchy-feely. Stanley could still feel the ghost of her hands on his collar, still see the life in Patty’s eyes as she hit him with playful looks. It may not have been a long conversation, but that $100 bottle of absinthe had been worth every penny. 

\---

Eddie was concerned. Not about his date anymore, as Mike was turning out to be kind, funny, and surprisingly forward with Eddie. But Bill was acting weird. The aggression towards Mike had been out of character, especially since he’d been encouraging Eddie to ask him out in the first place. 

As Beverly hauled him off, which Eddie would have to thank her for later, he realized that something had changed after Bill went to the bar. Before that, Bill had been exuberant and chatty. But when he had returned, Bill looked downright deflated. Something had clearly changed, and Eddie bet that something had to do with Stanley. 

“Everything okay?” Mike asked, looking at Eddie with concern. “You zoned out on me there.”

“Sorry! I was just trying to figure out what was up with Bill,” Eddie replied. “He’s not usually like that.”

Mike nodded, but looked deflated himself. “I’m sure he’s not. But how often do you bring a date to your guys’ night out?”

“Never,” Eddie answered, holding Mike’s hand and playing with his fingers under the table. 

“Well, then it makes sense that he’d be worried about you,” Mike suggested, and Eddie nodded, but his eyes strayed over to the bar again.

“Do you want a drink? I can get us something,” Mike offered, but Eddie shook his head.

“No, no, I just….” Eddie started, but stopped, as he saw Bill sitting back down. 

“Mike, I’m sorry I was being an asshole,” Bill said, remorse ringing true. “I was disappointed about something else and I took it out on you. But that’s no excuse. You seem like a great guy, and I’m sorry.”

Bill held out his hand, and Mike smiled as he grabbed it with his own, shaking it. “All is forgiven and forgotten.”

As he smiled at his boys making up, Eddie’s gaze once again drifted to the bar. And Bill mentioned something about being disappointed? 

He’s not going to get to meet Richie, Eddie realized, his eyes widening at the revelation. He knew Bill was barely holding onto hope, after so much time had passed. Bill called Eddie immediately after Stanley told him Richie would be performing, and the saccharine glee in his voice had almost made Eddie sick. So what had changed?

As Patty returned to her spot at the table, drink in hand and an amused smile lingering on her face, Eddie stood suddenly, and said, “I’m thirsty, so I’m gonna grab a drink real quick.”

“Oh, I can get them, Eddie,” Mike said, starting to stand, but Eddie placed a small, firm hand on Mike’s shoulder, urging him back down.

“No, I got it. Do you want anything?” Eddie asked, rubbing Mike’s shoulder a little, so he didn’t seem too assertive. 

“I could go for a beer. An IPA, if they have any. If not, whatever’s on tap.”

“Great, I’ll be right back,” Eddie replied, turning to head towards the bar. 

He whipped around so quickly, eyes so squarely focused on his target, that he didn’t notice a tall, lanky man in his periphery. They collided, the guy running straight into Eddie’s shoulder, almost knocking him over. “God, what the fuck? Are you blind?”

“What does it look like, dipshit? I don’t wear these for fashion,” the man said, adjusting his glasses for emphasis.

“Well, that’s obvious, since you haven’t fucking got any,” Eddie retorted, motioning towards the stranger’s ugly outfit. 

“Are you even old enough to be in here?” he countered, holding his hand an inch above Eddie’s head. “I’m pretty sure you must be this tall to drink in this bar.”

“Fuck you!” Eddie replied, smacking his hand out of the way, as he pushed passed his tormentor.

“Feelings mutual,” the guy said, flipping Eddie off with both hands as he walked backward away from him. 

“What an asshole!” Eddie said, as he sat down in front of Stanley.

“You’re not wrong,” he replied, having seen the encounter from the bar. “What can I get you, besides the gin and tonic?”

“An IPA?” Eddie asked, smiling at Stanley, who nodded. “So, what happened with Richie? Is he not coming?”

“No, he should be on any minute,” Stanley replied, a strange look in his eye. “Why?”

“Oh, well, Bill just came back to the table and looked really bummed, so I assumed it was about Richie.”

“It was,” Stanley replied, his response clipped. “I told Bill to stay away from him.”

“What? Why?” Eddie asked, surprised and confused. “I thought you and Bill were friends now. Didn’t you call him to make sure he’d be here? He dressed up and everything.”

Stanley raised an eyebrow before responding, “That’s dressed up?”

Eddie nodded, but rolled his eyes, his disdain for the outfit clear. 

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Stanley stated. “I did call him, but then he showed up here with a date, so I told him to stay the hell away from him.”

“A date?” Eddie asked, genuinely confused. “Oh, Patty? No, no, Patty just….”

“Save it,” Stanley said, cutting him off. “I’ve already heard his excuses.”

Sighing in defeat, Eddie turned on the stool to look back towards his friends. Bill looked like he was enjoying himself now, discussing something with Ben, who had finally arrived. But Eddie knew he was going to be disappointed, distraught even, if he didn’t get to at least talk to Richie. 

A thought, a momentary one, told Eddie that it might be over. That Bill would get crushed out of his crush and maybe, just maybe, Eddie could finally get his shot with him. That he could finally have what he’d always wanted. But his eyes drifted over just to Bill’s right and he saw Mike, who looked over and waved to him. Mike’s face brightened as he waved back, and Eddie thought maybe, just maybe, it was time to move on. 

Turning back to the bar, Eddie saw the drinks on the bar in front of him, as Stanley looked at him expectantly. But instead of taking them and heading back to his date, Eddie pushed them aside so he could lean over the bar towards Stanley.

“Now you listen here, Stan. Bill is my best friend and he’s an idiot. He lives with his heart on his stupid sleeve, letting it guide him almost entirely. He is not observant and is entirely oblivious, and I’m sure he didn’t know how it would look to you if he came with Patty,” Eddie explained. 

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. Richie needs someone dedicated and that thinks about others and how their actions have consequences and can hurt other people. And clearly, that isn’t Bill,” Stanley retaliated, his voice rising with frustration.

Eddie narrowed his eyes in observation, having heard from Bill that Stanley was a generally stoic guy. “Are you kidding? Dedicated? Bill has only thought about Richie since he saw him here. He tried to track him down in the alley and at your place. And every time, he’s patiently waited for the next opportunity. That’s why he didn’t realize that coming on a ‘date’ with Patty would mean anything. His mind is so fixated on Richie, he didn’t even consider that Patty might have been flirting. He’s irised in right on Richie, and he can’t see anything else.”

“I don’t know,” Stanley said, carefully considering Eddie’s words. “I want to believe that, but I’m just not sure I can, for Richie’s sake.”

Sighing, Eddie reached for the drinks, but paused, as he saw Stanley staring off dreamily. Eyeing him suspiciously, Eddie followed his gaze, towards their tables. At first, he thought Stanley was staring at Bill, that his earlier theory had been correct. But, as Eddie really looked, he realized Stanley wasn’t looking at Bill, but Patty. And then he remembered the smile on Patty’s face when she came back from the bar.

“What if I get you Patty’s phone number?” Eddie offered, Stanley’s eyes locking with his. 

After a short stare down, Stanley finally smiled and said, “You’ve got yourself a deal. Bill can talk to Richie after his set, and I won’t kill him.”

“Send him this beer as a peace offering,” Stanley finished, filling a glass and adding it to Eddie’s drinks.

“Thanks, Stanley,” Eddie replied, returning the smile before heading back to his seat.

As he sat down, Eddie greeted Ben, nodded when Mike thanked him for his drink, and then placed the second beer in front of Bill. When he was met with a questioning gaze, Eddie leaned close and said in Bill’s ear, “Stanley said you can talk to Richie after the show. The beer is an olive branch.”

Confusion in his eyes, Bill turned in his seat to look back at Stanley, who was looking at him expectantly, nodding to confirm Eddie’s statement. Bill mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Stanley, before turning back to Eddie. “What did you say to him?” he asked.

Eddie shrugged, before replying, “I just told him the truth. I told him how great you were.”

Bill wanted to grab Eddie’s hand or pick him up or kiss his cheek in celebration. But, as he saw Mike’s arm fall over Eddie’s shoulders, Bill realized their relationship was going to have to change. Instead, he funneled all the joy, affection and appreciation he had for Eddie into his words as he simply said, “Thank you, Eddie. Really, thank you.”

Nodding, Eddie smiled and turned back to Mike, who was leaning over to whisper in his ear. Bill stared at his friend, hardly able to believe he had done something so selfless. Eddie was really showing Bill exactly how much he loved him, and Bill could finally see it. 

A tear slipped from his eye, but Bill wiped it away, just as he saw the emcee jump on stage and grab the mic. “Alright folks, it’s been a few weeks, but now it’s time for a crowd favorite to return to the stage. You know him, you love him, you’re grossed out by him. Please give a warm welcome to Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier!”


	6. Broken Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie does his stand up routine, and Bill and Richie finally meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long, but thanks to everyone for being patient and excited for it. I hope you like the chapter and there will be more in the near future!

The room grew tense with anticipation, as all eyes turned to the stage. A smattering of applause sounded, as people recognized a familiar name, but Bill and his friends just stared silently, anticipating what was to come, all the while entirely unsure of what it would entail. 

 

“Is that the guy we’re…” Ben started to ask, but was immediately shushed by everyone at their tables in unison. Beverly looked at him apologetically and nodded, confirming that the man getting on stage was indeed the moment they’d all been waiting for.

 

The air turned stiff and tepid, the wait brief, but unbearably long, before Richie finally stepped into the light. His outfit was an eyesore; a bright pink Hawaiian shirt open over a green ‘Kiss Me, I Drink Like I’m Irish’ t-shirt, and long grey shorts, despite the freezing weather. 

 

It wasn’t just his outfit that clashed. The grin on Richie’s face and his jerky, over the top movements were in stark contrast to the sullen, slouched man Bill had been entranced by that first night.  _ Could that really be him? _ The thought was all Bill could hear, echoing in the cavern of his mind, reverberating in his head.

 

But the second Richie spoke, Bill knew it was. His voice, even if he wasn’t singing, was definitely the same. And yet, Richie was an entirely different person. 

 

Bill had learned in his psychology class that memories became more distorted every time someone recalled them. So, in an ironic twist of fate, the more often a person remembered a specific event, the less they could truly remember it as it had actually happened. Current emotions and feelings and interpretations would seep in, until the memory was so vastly altered, it couldn’t be trusted anymore. 

 

Was that what he had done? Bill dwelled on that memory, basically trying to live inside of it, for weeks. That moment, with Richie singing, his words and tone cutting straight to Bill’s heart, felt like the first instance of true clarity in Bill’s life. It was like a beacon, calling out to him in a sea of the mundane. 

 

And now, as he watched the man he had lingered on, dreamt about, and built up to be his soulmate, Bill wondered if he had just worked himself into a frenzy. Had he put Richie on a pedestal with impossible to meet expectations?

 

Only time would tell, he supposed, taking a deep breath, sipping his beer, as Bill decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Even if it was a fantasy, Bill wasn’t going to give up on it, or on Richie, just yet. Bill still hoped that fate was on his side. 

 

“Hey hey, how’s everybody doing?” Richie asked, as he turned, pointing ear towards the audience, his hand behind it. People in the audience clapped, hooted, and hollered. Richie nodded happily, as he moved back to the mic. “Good, good, always want a warmed up audience. And by warmed up, I mean  _ wasted _ !”

 

The patrons around them chuckled, but Bill’s friends were still all looking at each other in confusion and concern, casting cursory glances towards Bill. He simply stared at the man on stage, lost in thought. Bill’s eyes locked onto Richie, as he tried to rectify the image of the forlorn singer with the wacky comedian in front of him now. 

 

“Believe it or not, the first joke isn’t my wardrobe. I promise this is what I wear on a daily basis,” Richie confessed, and scattered laughter spurred him on. “Although, my roommate constantly bitches that I need to stop dressing like a color-blind toddler who got dressed in the dark. Everyone wave to my kind, caring roommate, Stanley, at the bar! Hi, dearest!”

 

Everyone turned in their seat to see Stanley, doing a slit his throat motion instead of waving, laughter filling the room. “Love you too, babe! Stanny disapproves of a lot of my habits, though, like when I turn my underwear inside out to reuse it. Or when I throw food away and then get hungry and pull it out of the trash.”

 

The audience groaned in unison disapproval, and Richie’s mouth fell open in offense. “Hey, it’s still in the container! I’m not an animal. And, second only to one habit, Stan the Man hates when I chew up the garbage food and show him how it looks once it’s all chewed up,” Richie described, miming the motion, pretending to chew and then open his mouth. 

 

The image combined with the gesture made Eddie gag in the audience, doubling over as he did. He hated his weak stomach, silently cursing his mother for making him like this. Face growing hot, Eddie was grateful for the wet towel Stanley brought for him, as Mike rubbed his back and patted his forehead with the towel.  _ Great first date impression _ , he thought.  _ I’m gonna kill that fucking guy, if it’s the last thing I do _ .  

 

Richie, however, was having the time of his life. He gasped into the mic, walking backwards across the stage in glee. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have someone about to throw up in the audience. Some comics know they’re doing well when people are smiling or gasping. But I always know my jokes are landing when someone blows chunks.”

 

Eddie raised his hand over his head to flip him off, but it just made Richie, and the audience, laugh even harder. Bill eyed Eddie with concern, as Beverly leaned over the table to ask, “Are you sure you want to date  **_this_ ** guy?”

 

Bill wanted to glare and tell her to shut up, but Beverly was making a good point. Honestly, seeing Richie be crass and lewd made Bill wonder who he really was. Was the real Richie on stage right now, or the one he had seen singing and bearing his soul on stage? Were they both Richie, despite being complete opposites? 

 

The concept reminded Bill of chiral molecules. Eddie had explained the concept to him, one night when they were hanging out alone. He held Bill’s wrists, palms facing up. Eddie described how, two molecules might look the same when in one form, as he sandwiched Bill’s hands together, his fingers lining up. But he showed Bill if he was to flip them, with one of his hands on top of the other, palm of his left touching the back of Bill’s right hand, that they wouldn’t line up anymore. In that position, Bill’s hands would almost align, but he could see both of his thumbs sticking out.

 

And that’s how Bill felt right now, his forehead creased as he looked up at Richie; he was like a molecule with two forms, and Bill couldn’t get them to align properly. Something always felt off. He also realized, as he ruminated over the memory, that Eddie had probably been trying to flirt with him, using the opportunity to hold Bill’s hands, as he explained the science to him. Mentally slapping himself, Bill looked over at his friend, who still looked like he might be sick, but gazed up at Mike gratefully, as Mike smiled in return. 

 

If nothing else, Richie’s nasty comedy was getting one couple comfortable with each other, and for that, Bill was grateful. Eddie deserved someone who was really in love with him, who looked at him with all the love in his heart. Bill hoped, as he watched them, that Mike was that guy. He broke his gaze away from the two of them, focusing back on the show, remembering how he had looked at Richie before, wondering if he could get there again.

 

“Okay, okay, I started talking about nasty shit because I wanted to introduce why, more than anything, Stanley hates when I get high. Since he is such an anal neat freak, it seems odd that my occasional drug habit would be the thing that really bothered him. But it’s because of the story I’m about to tell you, about the time I got high and was attacked by a bat,” Richie explained, the bar going quiet, as everyone leaned forward, eager to hear the story. 

 

“There had been a bat living around our place for about a month. I saw it as I walked into our complex, and honestly, I thought it was fucking dope. But that was an at-a-distance-it-looks-like-the-bat-symbol situation. And then, some asshat in our building thought it was a good idea to leave the door to the building open with a brick. My money’s on the dunce in 4B, who is always begging someone to buzz him in and waking me up at the buttcrack of noon. And the bat decided that the hallway was warmer than outside.”

 

Richie ran his finger through his hair, pausing for a moment to get a drink. His act clearly was practiced, as the sudden silence filled everyone with anxious excitement, leaving them on the edge of their seats. 

 

“I have no idea how long he was renting out the hall, but one day, I decided to make myself some pot brownies. Now, the problem with making pot brownies, when you’re all alone at home, is that you don’t feel the high quickly, like you do when you smoke, so it creeps up on you. You eat a couple and then, since you don’t feel high yet, you eat a few more. Then, once the high finally hits you, you get the munchies! And there are brownies right there, waiting for you. It’s an endless cycle, until the tin is empty, and you’ve eaten way too many brownies.”

 

Eyes widened in the audience, and a cacophony of murmuring, as they started putting the pieces together. Richie laughed into the microphone, raising his eyebrows at them. “Sounds to me like you’ve figured it out! But for the slow members of the crowd, let me finish the story.”

 

Animatedly, Richie started pacing the stage, receiving the rapt attention of almost everyone in attendance. “So, before I know it, I am high as a kite, alone in the apartment, and I see a fucking leather-winged demon fly into the room. It was huge and all I could see were wings and teeth. I swear, it screeched, and flew straight for my head! I ran from room to room, but it kept fucking following me, hunting me, until I finally hid in the bathroom and locked the door. And then I could hear it, knocking things over, breaking shit, and  _ ramming _ the door!”

 

As he described the scene, Richie bared his fangs, flapped his arms, and ran around the stage screeching and hissing. The audience was sold now, in stitches, someone laughing so hard, they fell out of their seat, which only made Richie grin in celebration. 

 

“I don’t know how long I was in the bathroom, probably for hours, but when Staniel finally got home to save me, he heard me howling and screaming, telling him there was a demon and pleading with him to get an exorcist, even though he’s Jewish. So, while I am crying in the bathroom, Stanny calls animal control to take care of the winged hell beast, but they are closed on the weekend. Did you know that? Apparently, people don’t have animal issues on the weekends.”

 

“So, we just had a new roommate until Monday, right? Wrong! Stan, the strong, the handsome, the best Jew anyone ever knew, takes care of the problem in minutes. He told me he drove it out by holding a sheet and walking towards it, scaring the thing right out of the apartment. Did you know demons are afraid of sheets? Sounds fake to me, but I thought it was rude question my new savior, Stanley Christ, so I just decided to forget about it. And that, ladies and germs, is the story of why Stan doesn’t let me eat edibles at home anymore. Thanks everyone, you’ve been so kind. Enjoy the rest of the talent, and make sure you beg Stanley to let me do more stand up and embarrass him. Goodnight!”

 

As soon as Richie’s set ended, the audience started clapping, some even giving a standing ovation, as he bowed dramatically. None of Bill’s friends did, though, still trying to process who he was and what was happening, all of them sneaking glances at Bill. For his part, Bill’s heart beat in his chest faster by the second, knowing that he was about to finally meet Richie, and hoping that he would be all Bill had thought he might be. 

 

But, before he could make a move, a hand landed on his shoulder. Bill looked over to discover it was Mike’s, who was giving him a serious look. As the cheering continued, Mike leaned in close to speak in Bill’s ear. 

 

“Eddie really doesn’t seem to be feeling well, so I’m going to take him home, but I have to get back to my uncle’s farm. I’m taking care of it while he’s out selling his goods,” Mike explained, his guilty conscience clear in his tone. “Could you check on him at his place after you meet Richie?” 

 

“Of course,” Bill said, casting a concerned glance at Eddie, who looked pale and sickly. He felt badly that Richie’s comedy was likely the cause, but also hoped that it was the only cause. “If you give me your uncle’s number, I’ll give you a call once I get there.”

 

Mike’s expression was grateful, with hints of pleasant surprise. “Thanks Bill.” 

 

“No problem,” Bill replied, as he watched Mike nod, before practically picking Eddie up and heading out the door. 

 

Beverly and Bill exchanged concerned glances, before Bill felt a hand on his shoulder and on his back, gently turning him around. Through a clenched smile, Stanley said, “Here’s your chance, lover boy. Don’t screw it up.”

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, jerk,” Bill replied, but grimaced in pain when Stanley pinched him on the side. But, as his gaze drifted to the bar, Bill’s heart started racing, a lovestruck smile spreading across his face. 

 

“Richie, this is Bill Denbrough. Bill,  _ this _ is Richie Tozier,” Stanley said, his tone informative with a hint of mischief.

 

“Oh yeah, you’re the guy who was getting beat up in the alley, right?” Richie asked, a toothy grin on his face. 

 

“Wh-what?” Bill asked. In the million times he had imagined meeting Richie, he had never considered that as a possible response. 

 

“Yeah, Beverly was out there, putting the fear of God in you, from the looks of it.”

 

Bill’s eyes grew wide, as his head tilted automatically, confusion clear on his face. “How do you know Beverly?”

 

“I met her in the alley before the show, but right after she got done with you,” Richie answered, raising and lowering his eyebrows. “Don’t feel too bad; she looks like the type that could break down anybody.”

 

“She is,” Bill replied, smiling a little, before his nerves got the better of him. 

 

“Shit, Stanny, this is the guy who’s been chatting you up?” Richie asked, as Bill’s eyes grew wide in concern, shifting his gaze to Stanley. 

 

Shaking his head, Stanley smiled simply, but wider than Bill had ever seen. “No, Rich, he’s actually been dying to meet you. He’s your biggest fan,” Stanley finished, smiling through the daggers Bill was shooting at him. 

 

“Oh really?” Richie replied, his eyes meeting Bill’s, glistening with delight, making Bill’s heart leap. “And you had him get all dressed up for me? Staniel, that’s so fucking sweet. I love the outfit, by the way,” Richie finished, leaning towards Bill to say it just to him.

 

Richie’s eyes raked over Bill’s entire body with efficiency, but Bill could feel Richie drinking him in. And, by the look in his eyes, and the way they kept drifting down to Bill’s lips, he was pretty sure Richie liked what he saw. Bill simply smiled back at him, heart pounding so hard, he felt like it was all he could do. 

 

Stanley seemingly forgotten, Richie leaned in again to Bill, trying to talk over the singer on stage. “So, you like my comedy? Have you been in here before?”

 

“Yeah, it was good! You’re pretty funny,” Bill replied. “I was here before and I heard you sing, though, and you have a spectacular voice. It really resonated with me.”

 

Nodding slowly, Richie’s smile slowly vanished, the emotion on his face imperceptible. And, for just a second, he looked like the Richie Bill had seen before, serious, demure, and vulnerable. He hoped reminding Richie of the time hadn’t brought all the negative feelings back, but Bill let out a silent sigh of relief. He was definitely the same guy, even if the real Richie was infinitely different and more complicated than Bill could have imagined. 

 

“Well, you know, a little fucking heartbreak will make anyone sing the blues,” Richie replied, trying to let out the tense air of the moment and not entirely succeeding.

 

Frowning, Bill looked Richie over. The man of his dreams was visibly tensing, his middle finger scratching at his shorts quickly but rhythmically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since.”

 

It wasn’t until Richie looked at him, a naughty half grin on his face, that Bill’s face flushed with realization at what he had said. “Your performance, I mean,” Bill tacked on, trying to cover himself. 

 

“Right, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about my a...ct,” Richie teased, drawing out the word before his face lit up with a grin that made Bill grateful for his slip. 

 

Taking another stepped towards him, Richie closed almost all the distance between the two of them, sharing air with Bill when he spoke again. “Well, since you’re my biggest fan, Bill, why don’t you take me out tomorrow night? You already know my number and where I live, so how about you pick me up at 8?”

 

A nervous habit reemerged with Richie’s body almost touching his, mouth so close, Bill could taste the tobacco on his breath. “That would be g-g-great, Richie.”

 

Bill kicked himself internally for letting his stutter out, but Richie moved even closer, the flaring of his copper brown eyes beautiful and almost alarming. 

 

“Am I making you nervous?” Richie whispered, smiling as he saw Bill’s Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. Bill nodded so lightly, he wasn’t sure Richie noticed, until he moved his head to the side, lips brushing Bill’s ear, as he whispered, “good.”

 

Melting at the closeness, the breath on his cheek, the lips on his ear, Bill closed his eyes, letting out an unsteady breath, before opening them again to find Richie moved away, back in front of him, still smiling. The predatory look had faded from his face, but Bill could still sense it, lurking just beneath the surface. 

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, Billiam,” Richie said, giving Bill a simple wink, as he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

 

Finally, as Richie retreated, Bill felt like there was air in the room again, taking a few deep breaths before he felt the fog lift and he could think again.

 

“Unbelievable,” Stanley said, shaking his head.

 

“What?” Bill replied simply, as Stanley gave him an unimpressed look. 

 

“You are so gone for him, and he knows it,” Stanley replied, turning his attention back to cleaning the bar. “I don’t know how he does that.”

 

As Bill tried to come up with something to defend himself, Patty appeared at the bar, putting a note on the surface and passing it towards Stanley with a flirtatious ease. “Eddie said you asked for that. So, don’t forget to call me, Stanley,” Patty ordered, her tone piquant yet sweet, like strawberry lemonade.

 

Stanley picked up the paper, noting Patty’s penmanship, before slipping it into his shirt pocket. “Of course,” Stanley said, and Bill watched as his eyes glazed over and, for the first time, Stanley didn’t look stiff. He was melting, just like Bill had earlier. 

 

Patty walked away, but Stanley’s eyes lingered on her, and Bill laughed, pulling Stanley out of it. When Stanley locked eyes with him, Bill simply said, “Unbelievable,” before grinning and heading back to his friends, but not before seeing Stanley scowl at him. 

  
  
  


As promised, Bill made his way to Eddie’s place to check on his sick friend. He climbed the stairs to Eddie’s apartment. Usually the journey felt arduous, as Bill huffed and puffed, as out of shape as he was. But, riding the high of having a date with Richie, he hardly even noticed that he’d arrived at Eddie’s door. Bill pulled out his keys and opened the door with the spare key Eddie had given him in case of emergencies, being safety concerned and cautious as ever. 

 

Bill walked in like he owned the place, deftly locating a glass and filling it with water, before heading to Eddie’s room. The door had been left ajar, and as Bill entered, he walked as softly as he could. But Bill had always been lanky and loud, and Eddie had been ever vigilant his whole life. 

 

“Mike?” Eddie called, his voice soft but hopeful. “I thought you had to leave to take care….” He paused abruptly, closing his mouth as Eddie saw Bill make his way around the corner. “Oh, hey Bill.”

 

Waving weakly, Bill walked over to the nightstand to set down the glass of water he’d brought for Eddie, only to find one half finished already there. Bill smiled and reminded himself to thank Mike later. 

 

Setting the glass down, Bill turned and sat on the side of the bed, taking in Eddie’s appearance. His friend lay there, less color in his face than Bill would have liked. He looked as if he’d been sweating, and kept his eyes closed, clearly focusing on keeping his stomach calm. Bill’s brow knit in concern, as he moved to lay next to his friend on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

 

The scene was so familiar, from years of sleepovers, the two of them laughing, having tickle fights and wrestling, crying and comforting each other. They had slept in the same bed so many times, that Bill wasn’t sure it would ever feel foreign. 

 

But, as the two men lay there, Bill felt an ocean in the three feet between them. Things were going to be different now, they had to be. But Bill wondered how much of his and Eddie’s relationship was based on Eddie’s romantic feelings for him and what part was purely their friendship. He supposed he’d find out, but the question hung in the air, unspoken but tense. 

 

“How’d it go with your dream man?” Eddie asked softly, teasing through the difficult task of keeping his breathing steady. 

 

“It was good,” Bill said, after a few moments of contemplation. “I have a date with him tomorrow night, actually.”

 

“Really?” Eddie replied, surprise and something else in his voice. Distaste? Frustration? Concern? Bill wasn’t quite sure. 

 

“Yeah...are you okay with that?”

 

Silence crept in and with every moment that passed, Bill worried more and more that Eddie would tell him it wasn’t, that he couldn’t stand being anywhere near Richie, and that Bill had to choose between them. And there was no way Bill could live without Eddie; he wouldn’t even try. 

 

“Do I have free range to punch him if he actually makes me fucking throw up?” Eddie asked, breaking the tension.

 

“Of course. It’s not like I could stop you anyway,” Bill continued. “That Kaspbrak rage is a natural disaster waiting to happen.”

 

As he turned his head, Bill smiled when their eyes met, Eddie looking at him fondly, eyes glistening. “You know it,” he agreed, before turning back to the ceiling and sighing. “I can’t believe he made me sick on my date. I’m never forgiving him for that, I want you to know.”

 

“Completely fair,” Bill said, before adding, “And I don’t think he did.”

 

Sitting up on his elbow and turning, Eddie’s eyes grew wide with incredulity. “Are you kidding me, Denbrough? The jerk talked about his disgusting eating habits until I practically vomited all over the goddamn floor.”

 

Bill turned, mirroring Eddie’s body language. “I know, and I’ll yell at him for it later. But you were already so nervous. That’s probably why it affected you so much. And Mike brought you home and made sure someone checked on you since he couldn’t stay. Definitely seems like he’s interested.”

 

“He’s just being the nicest guy in the world because he always is,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes. “It’s so hard to tell if nice people are into you.” 

 

“Believe me, he’s into you,” Bill assured.

 

“How do you know? Am I talking to the fucking love guru over here, now that you finally have a date with Mr. Dickhead Dreamboat?” Eddie teased, and Bill smiled softly in response. 

 

Bill laid on his back, his eyes closing as he spoke. “No, I can tell by how he looks at you, how aware he was of you, how he was enduring my terrible behavior so well because he just wanted to be around you. Sorry about that again.”

 

“It’s okay, Bill. You were upset about not meeting Richie. And change is tough for everyone,” Eddie said, voice getting softer with each word. 

 

Swallowing, Bill felt a heavy pressure descend onto his chest, unsure of what he was feeling exactly. They were both talking about beginnings, and yet, things felt more like they were coming to an end. With an exhale, Bill sat up, climbing off the bed. 

 

“I can stay, if you want. Spend the night, make sure I’m here if you need anything,” Bill offered. 

 

Eddie watched him for a moment, trying to decipher any emotion on his friend’s face, but there was nothing to see on Bill’s even face. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, Bill. You can….”

 

“Okay, I’ll grab stuff from the closet and get comfortable on the couch. Do you need anything before I go to bed?” 

 

After the interruption, Eddie deflated, but shook his head. “No, I think I’m good.”

 

Nodding, Bill turned to leave, but stopped as soon as he heard Eddie’s voice again. “Thanks Bill, I really appreciate it.”

 

Bill turned the words over in his mind, replaying the tone his head, making the statement encompass more than the situation implied. “Anytime,” Bill replied simply, before stepping through the threshold and closing the door behind him. 


End file.
